Mistletoe
by ScarlettTheCat
Summary: As Sherlock and John stand beneath the mistletoe, they begin to come to terms with their feelings for each other... Festive one-shot. Johnlock fluff.


'But John, it is a tradition. And you're the one who's been going around all month saying that we should do Christmas 'properly', with the tree and everything,' Sherlock said irritably; quite frankly thinking that his flatmate was making too much of a big deal out of the small sprig of mistletoe, that they had _just happened _to pass under. But, if Sherlock was honest, he did think that the entire evening John had been trying to get the two of them to surreptitiously pass under this particular doorway- and after all that effort, now John seemed too embarrassed to even make the first move, maybe not even the second. What was the point in that? Sherlock was confused by this illogical way of thinking; and also frustrated. He thought John's (what John thought were) subtle efforts to try and direct the two of them underneath this particular doorway all evening quite sweet, in a humorous sort of way. And, strangely, he had been _looking forward _to the kiss.

_Hang on a moment…_Sherlock analysed his previous thoughts; and, once again, one of the only things that could _possibly_ confuse the great Sherlock Holmes was the emotional effect of his flatmate, John Watson. Sherlock had still, amazingly enough, not quite deduced why he was so emotionally confused by the smaller man. _Why do my usually clear and logical thoughts always get so confused…I cannot think of a rational explanation…and why do I want to just feel him, touch him, _kiss _him…_

_Oh no._

_Is this what love is?_

As the realisation hit him, Sherlock physically shifted a little. For a while, he knew that he had a special bond with John, and was aware that he felt emotionally strong towards him. But, never before had he labelled these feelings and this partnership as _love. _Everything seemed to make sense now, and, Sherlock realised that, actually, he _liked _this new-found love. Yes, perhaps, it was a little inconvenient, but…he was in love. He'd never been in love before. Well, not like this. He remembered Irene Adler…but, compared to this, that just seemed like mere lust. Because, the whole time, though she had seemed to be on his mind a lot he realised that, actually, the whole time, the one person he would put before her, think of before her, was…

John.

John Watson.

The man standing in front of him now.

Looking straight into his eyes, as he was stuck in these distant thoughts.

Sherlock felt like he'd been stuck in these thoughts for years, when in fact it had all happened in a short moment. And the outcome; he was in love. In love with John.

'Yes, but…' John began, answering Sherlock's previous quotation. 'People might talk…' John was annoyed as he said this. _All bloody evening, _he thought to himself. _All bloody evening, I thought it would be a good idea to get him under here with me._ And it was true. The whole evening, as subtly as he was capable of, John had been trying to pursue the great Sherlock Holmes under this doorway with him. The thought first struck him when he saw Mycroft and Lestrade accidently end up under there together, and he watched as the two gave each other a subtle smile, then place their lips together in quite a business-like manner, though the whole time there eyes had been locked, and looking into each other's…

And it made John think. _Why do _I _want to be under there so bad, and why do I want to be under there with…Sherlock? _John, on numerous occasions, had found himself looking dreamily at the brilliantly perfect consulting detective, with great lust to be near him, to hold him, as the two, as always, exchanged their unbreakable eye-contact…

And then some bloody person would always come along and ask him if he was gay. John Watson was _very _over-protective of his sexuality, which he knew was on the verge of flipping over from perfectly straight, to perfectly bent, all because of a certain detective, who, in John's opinion, was too attractive for his own good. _No no no! _John told these thoughts to be gone- he didn't have anything _against _being gay, it's just that he's always thought of himself as, as…a straight man.

So, he decided, to confirm these thoughts and end this strange lust forever, (and also perhaps for his own satisfaction, says the small voice at the back of his head), he wanted to try to kiss Sherlock Holmes. And the mistletoe hanging above the doorway at this Christmas party was the _perfect _opportunity.

But, now, standing under this doorway, in the midst of slow-dancing couples and twinkling festive lights of gold and red, as delicate, sparkling and intricate flakes fell down onto the street outside, he was not so sure. And yet, all he wanted, right now, as he stood in the festive and cinnamon-scented atmosphere, with Sherlock right there, right in front of him, all he wanted right now was to hold Sherlock, to kiss him passionately, and he wanted more than just the arbitrary kiss he had originally been anticipating, he wanted a glorious kiss, a kiss and an embrace with meaning…

_Wait…_John thought for a moment. _I'm not, I can't be…_

_I'm in love with Sherlock Holmes._

And, as he finally gave in to his emotions, and discarded all the protesting thoughts in his mind, Sherlock seemed to do so simultaneously, and the two men carefully, slowly wrapped their arms heart-warmingly around each other, and gently pressed their lips together, which soon became a gentle, yet long and passionate kiss, under the mistletoe, with the lights down low and candlelight twinkling, as snow fell delicately outside the window beside them and couples slow-danced to the beautiful festive piano around them.

**A.N- Thank you for reading, and Merry Christmas! 3**


End file.
